


Clay Covered Sweater Weather

by odat



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Art Student AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odat/pseuds/odat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s a ceramicist and she’s a painter, it’s a little bit like a forbidden art school romance but mostly it’s just a mutual frustration with kilns, clay, paint, freshman, and finals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clay Covered Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eisschirmchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eisschirmchen/gifts).



> SUPER HAPPY BIRTHDAY EISSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
> 
> And a big thanks to Eris, Fab, and Marsh for editing this.

Oh man. Sunchips.

Motherfucking Sunchips. First meal of the day and it was already 8 pm. He was lucky really, he hadn’t really been planning on eating until he got home (whenever the fuck that was going to be) and all he had to look forward to at his apartment (hovel) was some pasta and shaky cheese. Just like he had had for the past three nights.

Soul had found the dollar that had bought him the delicious, salty, perfect little whole grain bits of deliciousness under one of the glaze buckets when he’d been cleaning up his stuff and had run to the vending machines before he went and spent it on coffee. It had taken him almost five minutes of drooling on the glass and debating if he wanted sweet, salty, sweet and salty, gummy, crunchy, cheesy, fruity, or maybe he really should just get another coffee…

He went with the Sunchips. Safe bet. Kind of healthy, they’d keep him…fullish until he got home and the salt was a good idea (no it wasn’t, not when most of his diet consisted of ramen).

Savoring each chip (which was hard when he wanted nothing more than to inhale all of them all at once) in his studio with his feet propped up and leaning back in the chair that he’d stolen from a dumpster (it was a comfortable chair! No reason to throw it out! Right until the back had given out. But that was easily fixed by a metals student) and life was good. There was a night class in the other half of the ceramics room on the wheels bitching about how the clay wouldn’t do this and the wheel wouldn’t do that.

Pfft. Noobs.

His school was pretty small and the ceramics department was tiny. Like, literally. They were squirreled away in the basement of the school and even though they had some pretty nice facilities (meaning the kilns were halfway decent) not too many people took the beginner’s level classes. There was the core group of ceramists (he was one of the seniors in that group) and a handful of recurring students, but for the most part, they had free rein of their department.

Which was super nice, ‘cause then they got to fuck with the glazes and kilns all they wanted.

The Sunchips were halfway gone and Soul was lamenting their addictive quality.

“Fuck. Not again.”

Well someone wasn’t having fun. Soul peaked out from behind the divider that kept unsuspecting minions out of the private studios. Couple students on the wheels, oh…nothing was going well over there, a few at the tables hand building, and-

“Fuck!”

Yup, chick at the plasterboard trying to wedge her clay into a manageable ball. And failing.

Miserably.

He wasn’t the TA. He wasn’t the TA. He didn’t have to help her. No. No no no!

“….You’re doing it wrong.”

Fuck.

“What?” She looked up trying to figure out where the voice had come from; it was actually kind of cute when she looked up at the pipes in the ceiling as if they were the ones talking to her. Soul propped his bag of chips up against one of his finished pieces, stood up, and brushed the crumbs off his pants before walking over to her.

“You’re kneading it wrong, if you do that whatever you make on the wheel is gonna crack when  you fire it. Especially if you don’t compress it properly. Stop over thinking it.” Soul pulled his red bandana up from around his neck to hold his hair back. The chick looked at him like he was speaking a different language. Black leggings (with more paint than clay on them), an oversized sweatshirt ‘cause it was always fucking cold in the studio especially in the winter, and huh…kinda kick ass boots with a shit ton of paint on them. Pretty obvious which department she was in and why she was having such issues with the clay.

“Wait…but? I thought?” She looked at him then at the clay in her hands, and then back at him.

“What?”

Soul tried his best not to roll his eyes. “Like this.” He grabbed his own chunk of clay and started to throw it on the plaster to shape it and take the moisture out of it.

“Wait wait! I don’t know what you’re doing!” She frantically tried to copy his movements.

“No, god you suck at this.”

“Then how about you actually show me rather than making fun of me!” Her cheeks were puffed out and Soul finally noticed that she had clay clinging to the tip of one pig tail and the prettiest green eyes he’d ever seen.

“Uuuh.” Damn his ineloquence with cute girls! “Like this.” He placed his hands over hers and worked her through the motions. “Wait..”

“What?” Her voice was a little higher than he thought it was.

“Now I’m over thinking it too!”

“Then you suck too!”

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

—

Her name was Maka, and she was a painter as he’d suspected, who was taking the beginner’s ceramics class to try and help her out of a bad art slump she’d been in for the past few months. She was also one of those over achieving double major dorks. She was kind of a nerd, stressed herself out way too much, barely slept (but that was a given; she was at art school, no one ever slept), and she liked tea.

Which caused quite a large argument between the two of them. Because the ceramics department drank coffee. Only coffee. While apparently, those light loving painters who lived on the third floor only drank tea.

But she was kind of adorable when she was covered in clay. Maka was very careful not to be covered in paint though (prolonged exposure or contact is bad for your skin, Soul! There are a lot of really nasty things in paint! Plus, it’s such a waste!), she was rather practical to be at art school really. But she was meticulous about cleaning down her area in the ceramics studios and Soul figured that was about when his crush started.

Plus, she had the most comfortable chair in the whole world tucked into the corner of her over crowded studio. God knew how; she had more paintings than should have been possible to make in one semester, branches (he was gonna have to ask how she was sneaking those by the security guard), and two easels in her studio (both with unfinished , but there was usually a path to the chair…usually. It may have been red at one point, with a pale color flower print on it but now it was just pink with blotchy white spots.

She’d invited him to come up to the third floor (ah! The light, it burns! Shut up Soul, you’re so tan you’ve obviously seen the sun before) with the promise of food. More specifically stew. With meat in it. Like actual protein. Once again, he hadn’t eaten all day, other than a Poptart at some ungodly (before 10 am) hour of the morning and Maka was appalled. “I have food in my studio! Come on, we’ll go feed you and then you can show me how to throw on the wheel, fair?”

"You sure? I don’t wanna eat your lunch or anything?"

"…I’ve been eating this for a week straight, I could use a break from it. So really you’re doing me a favor."

Well he certainly wasn’t going to argue with that.

She’d grabbed it from someone else’s minifridge, stuffed it in someone else’s microwave, and lead him to her studio as soon as it was done. Maka grabbed a bag of trail mix and sat on one of the stools in front of a huge canvas. “If you can figure out how to get to the chair, it’s worth sitting in.”

It had taken some fancy footwork and more than a little flailing to get to the chair, but oh god. Sitting in that chair was a lot like sitting in a cloud. Maka just giggled at his face as he sank down into it the first time. “Comfy right? I sleep there sometimes.”

"God I would live in this thing…mostly because I’m not sure I can get up again." Soul liked to make Maka laugh. They’d eaten their lunches quietly (it had taken a hell of a lot of restraint to avoid moaning about how good the stew was) and just enjoyed each other’s company.

—

She was getting better with the clay, slowly….very slowly. But it was kind of cute to watch and Soul really didn’t mind helping her. Not that he said that, because there was usually a fair amount of groaning involved when she asked for help, but luckily Maka had figured him out pretty quickly.

"Quit bitching and show me how to do this, please!"

Plus, she turned the prettiest shade of pink whenever he covered her hands with his. Soul would show her once with his own ball of clay what she was trying to do, but Maka really learned best when she could feel the clay.

Her hands were tiny, especially in comparison to his. They were strong though, and as soon as Soul figured out that she wasn’t bracing her arms properly, they were steady too. Call him cliché, but he liked her hands a lot.

"Hey, give me your hand?" He’d asked one night after helping her clean up. The teacher had sort of adopted him as a second TA for the class, and while he wasn’t really getting paid for it, it meant that he and Maka got to hang out at least once a week. Unless he had something else going on, which unfortunately kept happening, but he made an effort (and that was saying a lot!) to be available for her class time.

"What for? Usually I need your hands." She quipped back at him with a smile. Maka had been particularly sassy all night and he was highly amused by it.

"Just do it." He grabbed her left hand and placed it against his own, making sure the heels of their hands were even. "Damn you’re tiny!"

"No, you’re just a giant! Geez! You could curl your fingers over mine!" She tapped her fingers against his, they barely reached halfway.

Soul snorted and tried not to grin, he liked the contrast of their hands against each other. It looked good…from an artistic standpoint of course.

Actually, he just really liked Maka a lot. It was kind of refreshing having her to banter with. She’d let him hide in her studio, sitting in the comfy chair and just watching her paint when he couldn’t deal with downstairs or when his own work wasn’t coming along properly. It was nice to breathe in the paint fumes for a change (Maka smacked him for that) rather than all the silica dust (she smacked him even harder for that).

It wasn’t very often that they got to hang out though; she commuted back and forth between their sister school to take her academics and was just super busy in general. Not that Soul wasn’t busy either; he worked the kilns more often than he got paid for, made most of the glazes, and had an internship over at one of the museums in the area.

They texted a lot. Early in the morning bitching about their commutes and how tired they were, in the afternoon when Soul lamented having forgotten lunch yet again and Maka yelled at him for taking such bad care of himself, in the evenings when Maka started to stress about papers and finals and the future, and then late at night when neither of them could sleep.

A lot of it was just school talk, or what TV shows they were using to procrastinate, or how many pages of reading they had to do in too little time to do them. But it was nice to just have someone to talk to about that stuff. Someone who got it. He drunk texted her once that he really appreciated her and she’d been kind enough to text back that she appreciated him too. And that he should probably drink some water otherwise he was going to have quite the hangover in the morning. It was one of the few drunk texts he never regretted sending (he did regret not drinking water like she’d suggested the next morning cause wow was he hungover).

Soul was determined to get her to a party. Maka had mentioned a fondness for red wine once while she and Soul were discussing their favorite drinks. She’d laughed (really just written out an extended “ahahahaha”) and mentioned that she was rather fun on tequila as well and it had taken him a few minutes to figure out how to respond to that. Because just the idea of Maka drinking was foreign to him, but tequila? Holy shit.

It took a fair amount of bribery, but she had finally agreed that if she had a free night and nothing the next day, she’d have some wine with him (and well, if he had some tequila handy as well, who knew?). The tricky part of that was the ‘nothing the next day’ because Maka always had something the next day. She was typically more responsible than him (meaning that she didn’t drink if she had class at nine am the next morning unlike Soul who had a rather bad habit of doing just that).

“I want to! I do, it’d be a lot of fun! Cause I kind of really want to see you drunk.”

“Yeah yeah, Star’s been telling you horror stories huh?”

“Maybe?” The winky face after that text had not been encouraging. “I really would like to split a bottle of wine with you.”

“I know, Maka. We will. Soon as you stop being a nerd and so busy.”

“I resent that comment, Soul.”

“Prove me wrong!”

“Just wait until I do.”

He was looking forward to the day.

—

Eventually finals rolled around and they both gave up even attempting to do lunch let alone drinks. Classes were over so they didn’t even have their weekly studio time together for Soul to make fun of Maka and for Maka to make fun of Soul. They even texted less which made Soul realize just how much they talked. She’d somehow managed to become one of his closest friends despite how little he actually got to see her. They’d been doing this weird friendship for quite a while, couple of months; texting, waving at each other when they crossed paths, grabbing lunch or dinner (whatever the fuck meal it was) when they could, bantering, talking, hell sometimes even flirting.

Sure, she was cute and smart, but she was a lot more than just that, and yes, being the dork he liked to pretend he wasn’t, he’d started to crush on her somewhere between how well she cleaned up her work area (it was important!) and when she’d given him the strongest black tea she could find after he’d been caught out in a nasty rain shower. It was a little harder to pinpoint when he had started to really fall in love with her.

Soul shrugged and leaned back in his chair. Maka was special like that; he really wasn’t surprised.

—

The kilns were being fired just about every night during finals, and Soul was on duty currently. His black t-shirt was drenched with sweat, and even though he’d shrugged off the top part of the dirty, yellow, fire resistant coveralls he was wearing, he was still dying of the heat. His signature red bandanna kept most of his hair out of his eyes but beads of sweat kept forming at his temples. What he wouldn’t give to go curl up in Maka’s chair right now.

Soul walked out of the kiln room to go check on the other kilns outside; they were doing a couple of special fires and they needed to keep those kilns at a constant temperature so they’d be ready when they were supposed to be. There was a muffled curse in the studios when he walked by and Soul smirked. He knew that voice.

She was sitting at one of the large tables with her back to him staring at a board with lopsided and really short pots on it. He was using the word “pots” generously.

As quietly as he could, Soul snuck up on her and quickly covered her eyes with his hands. Maka’s squeak was totally worth it, her hands flew up to grab his wrists, and Soul smiled when she growled.

"I am so not in the mood, whoever you are, and I am not guessing." Soul remained quiet. "Black Star, I swear to god-" He chuckled, "…you aren’t Black Star?" Maka’s hands traced from his wrist down to his hands, feeling his fingers and the little scars that dotted his skin. "Who are you?"

"Gotta guess, Maka."

"Oh my god, Soul!" He barely had time to remove his hands from her eyes before she’d turned around and jumped on him. The hug was completely unexpected and he kind of wished he’d bothered to put more deodorant on that morning. "It’s been forever!"

"We were just texting this morning, nerd."

"Yeah but I haven’t seen you in…for…ever, oh my god." Maka pulled back to look at him and bit her lip after trailing off. Feeling quite self conscious of just how sweaty and gross he was, Soul tried to pull back.

"Ah, yeah, sorry. Kinda gross. Kilns," he offered sheepishly.

"Hot. You’re hot. I mean! They’re hot! The kilns. Kilns are hot. Very hot." Maka looked like a deer caught in headlights with her arms still around his waist.

"Whut," was all Soul could manage. His sleep-deprived brain was still trying to process what she’d just said. They were alone in the studio (it was kind of wicked late, Maka must have been planning on an overnight and sleeping in her chair) and neither really knew what to do next.

"…Oh fuck it." She licked her lips nervously, stood up, and kissed him.

Over the past three night Soul had probably gotten less than ten hours of sleep; he was exhausted, stressed, and not even in his wildest dreams could have imagined that walking into the ceramics studio would lead to Maka, painter, nerd, and adorable badass kissing him. He’d resigned himself to just crushing on her! Being her friend was totally cool. She was way out of his league and holy shit the girl could kiss. Soul finally let himself push his lips against hers in return. It’d be a waste of a perfectly good kiss if he didn’t kiss her back.

He could actually feel the moment she relaxed and melted against him. Wrapping his arms around her back to keep her against him was heaven; she was tiny but she fit. Maka seemed to share this sentiment and boldly slipped her hands under his shirt to clutch at his back while she nipped at his lips. Oh, now if she wanted to play that game, he had the teeth for it. Soul gently took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down just enough to make her gasp. Maka was never one to be outdone though; she dug her fingers into his back pulling him forward and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth.

There was no air left in his lungs, no thought left in his head, and currently his whole world was centered on Maka. It pained him to pull away from her but he was getting light headed and kind of really wanted to taste her neck. She didn’t seem to have an issue with it, hell her response was a breathy “Oh my god, yes!” Which kind of made his blood boil in the best way possible.   

The oversized button down shirt she was wearing was unbuttoned low enough that Soul could just see the curve of her breasts and the polka dots of her bra as he kissed down her neck. She had pulled him back until she was sandwiched between him and the table, hands still playing with the planes of his back. “Soul, mmm! You’re too tall!” Maka wiggled and tried to get herself on top of the table to at least gain a few inches.

Soul decided that he should most definitely be helpful, grabbed her ass, and lifted her up to place her on the table. Oh…that was so much better, he could pretty much kiss her without bending his knees now. Sure, he still had to slouch, but he did that anyway. And wow had he wanted to grab Maka’s ass for like…months now. And yes, it was everything he’d hoped it would be and more. Plus, the little squeak was a bonus.

“You- haaa! You should take your shirt off, Soul.” Her eyes were hooded and she kept biting her lip and looking up at him. Call it sleep deprivation, or insanity, but yes. Taking off his shirt sounded like a good plan. Especially since Maka fuckin’ Albarn was asking him to take it off. Maka fuckin’ Albarn, girl of his dreams (wet or not).

Pulling away left him cold, but she didn’t let him go far. Her hands tugged at the hem of his black shirt and helped Soul pull it up his chest and over his head. His bandanna was pushed off his head, but Maka snagged it and put it around her neck like a trophy and ran her fingers through his hair until it was sticking up in every direction.

For all the time he spent in the basement his skin was tan, even for the winter. It wasn’t the first time Maka had seen him shirtless; there’d been an incident with some glitter, Black Star, and Soul’s birthday that had led to him hiding in her studio, shivering glitter on to the floor, shirtless and missing a shoe. Luckily one of her paint shirts was an oversized men’s tshirt and she tossed it to him before he could get any glitter on one of her canvases with wet paint. Maka never asked him about the scar on his chest and he never offered.

But now? Well, she was taking free rein to trace every single line of his chest and he even heard her whisper, “Oh, the things I am going to do to your iliac crest.” Fucking art school man.

“Nerd,” was all he said and went back to marking her neck. Soul decided that he liked the way she gasped each time he introduced his teeth. Her fingers were back in his hair, well, at least one, oh…her other hand was…oh god that felt really good. Oh fuuuck. Her other hand was shoved down into the coveralls he had on and stroking him through his boxers.  

Soul let his head drop to her shoulder when she wiggled her hand into his boxers and gripped him, all the air in his lungs hissing out between his teeth and across her collarbone. He let himself just enjoy the feeling of her hand stroking him for a while but decided that he should probably return the favor. And that Maka was still wearing way too much clothing.

Kissing her collar bones and running his teeth over the delicate skin made herroar. Wait. No. Oh fuck. No no no! The big kiln roared back to life, getting itself back up to the correct temperature. FUCK! He was on duty and supposed to be making sure the kilns were getting enough oxygen (not that his brain was right now) and not about to have sex…in the studio…with the chick he’d been pining after for months. Fuck.

“Soul?” Maka so kindly reminded him with a fluid stroke that his dick was still hard and in her hand.

“I have to work…and we’re in the studio.” Even to his own ears his voice sounded gruff. He eased away from her and pulled her hand out of his boxers. Fuck. Everything.

“You don’t want? But?” Oh fuck him, she looked so hurt. Her face crumpling and were those tears!? Yes! Yes he did want! Fuck did he want!

With both hands on her face, gently cradling her jaw, he kissed her. It was soft, their softest kiss so far. Soul kissed her until his lungs burned, but he didn’t let her go (never wanted to let her go in the first place). “Fuck do I want, Maka. I want you under me, I want to see you come undone, hell I want to wake up next to you and do stupid shit like try and make pancakes! I want you so fucking badly.” She giggled and sniffed when he mentioned pancakes, and because he was a special breed of stupid he bucked against her making sure she could feel just how fucking hard he was for her. “But I don’t want some quick fuck in an open studio.”

Maka’s hands covered his, holding his wrists and leaning into his hands, she gave a small smile and nodded. “Okay, but you gotta promise me about those pancakes.” Fuck she was pretty and she looked a lot happier.

“Oh yeah, think I even have some maple syrup squirreled away somewhere for a special occasion. And wakin’ up next to you is gonna be a special faahkin’ occasion.”

“Your Boston is showing, Soul.”

“Sue me, I’m exhausted and there is no blood left in my brain thanks to a certain someone.” He grinned and kissed her smile. “Don’t you have some bowls to be finishing?”

“Don’t you have some kilns to be babying?” Maka shot back.

“Hey! They’re temperamental and just need a little love!”

“Mmmhm. Better get to it, hot stuff.” She shoved at him, but her legs were still around his waist.

He ran one hand from her knee to her hip, fuck it was gonna be hard to get himself away from her, he wanted to stay so badly. “Yeah yeah, so when am I making pancakes for you?”

“When I don’t have a nine am final?”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Not my fault! It sucks for me too! I’ll let you know though, okay? Cause yeah. I want to wake up next to you too.” Maka pulled him forward for another kiss and unwrapped her legs from around him. The kilns roared again and he really did need to go check on them. The stupid temperamental babies.

“Sounds good.” Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Oh what he wouldn’t give to just be able to do this now! Or to like take a nap, wake up, and then have sex with her! God knows they probably both needed to sleep. With one last lingering kiss to her lips, Soul finally pulled away and picked his shirt up off the floor. Maka bit her lip and made sure he noticed the look over she gave him. As if he weren’t already blushing, he could now feel the tips of his ears.

“Now go away, you’re distracting me. I promised myself one break and that was it.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest; Soul stole his bandanna back and he could just see several hickies starting to bruise on her skin.

“Don’t stay too late, but if you need help, you know where to find me.”

“I know. I’m almost done here…and then I have a painting to work on too.” Maka shrugged. “My painting crit is at nine tomorrow morning and I have a change of clothing here. So I’ll set up tonight.”

“Do get some sleep nerd.”

“You too! God you look like death warmed over.”

Soul gave her the biggest shit eating grin he could manage. “But you think I’m hot,” he teased.

“Go away!” Soul left the studio listening to her giggle at him.

Yeah, much as his dick was protesting, that was a good choice. “Alright you stupid kilns, who wants more oxygen?”

—

They kept texting when they could. Maka had managed to get a few hours of sleep curled up in her chair and her critique went well, and she was even kind enough to ask if the kilns had behaved. He texted back that no, some fucking freshman over glazed every single piece they made, shit was ruined, and two pieces had exploded because of trapped air in the clay. Could he kill someone please? He could call it a performance piece and make it really edgy. She talked him out of it and distracted him with a spam of cute puppy pictures for ten minutes. He kind of hated her and loved her for it.

They kept trying to find a night that they could have their god damn overdue sleep over with pancakes in the morning but their schedules just kept missing each other. She had a final or he had a crit. Or he had his internship and she had a study group. It seriously sucked and their texts to each other were getting more and more desperate.

“I just want to fucking relax!”

“Yeah, I can tell. You’re swearing. You okay?” Soul was half dead in his bed (really just a mattress on the floor with mismatched sheets, pillowcases, and blankets) and the brightness on his phone was as low as it could go. It still hurt his eyes.

“No. I want you.” Well fuck him.

“Want you too.”

“What do you have tomorrow morning?” The fuck did he have? No finals, he had some work to get done, no internship…nothing? Was he forgetting something? No…he really had nothing. Well he really needed to get that work done, but well, that could wait.

“Nothing? You?”

“I’m skipping study group. I don’t need it. I can be there in ten.”

Soul glanced at the top of his phone; it was nearly two in the morning. Public transport had stopped an hour ago and Maka really didn’t live that close to him. “I can get to you, lot safer for a dude to be out at night.” No response. Maybe she was just packing up? He waited until his screen shut off, fuck. Why wasn’t she answering? He sent her another text. And then another insisting that she just wait, he’d go to her.

True to her word, ten minutes later just as Soul was pulling on socks and a sweatshirt, his door buzzed. He abandoned the sweatshirt; it was only half on and in his way and sprinted to the door (meaning he took three strides from his bed in the corner to his door). “Maka!?”

“Hi.” Her cheeks were red, she must have run and she was starting to shiver. “I was at school! So it wasn’t that far. Sorry, I tried to text you but you live in a dead zone for—oh…sorry, missed your texts.”

“Get in here you butt. I was worried.” Soul tugged her against his chest; she was radiating cold instead of her usual warmth, and hugged her.

“Mm, warm.” Maka nuzzled close and snickered when Soul yelped, her nose was freezing against his bare chest.

He grumbled but rubbed her back, “Thought I was hot. Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?” She was in an oversized…grey…sweater. “You thief! I was wondering where this went!” Soul knew exactly what sweater this was, he’d been missing it for two months and it was one of his favorites.

Maka offered a sheepish “oops?” and tried not to grin too broadly. “Doesn’t matter though, you should take it off me.”

Oh. Oh, well. If she insisted. It wasn’t even buttoned; all he had to do was push it off her shoulders. It caught around her elbows, her fingers tucked into the waistband of his flannel sleeping pants. “So pancakes? You sure?” Soul hoped she understood what he was asking as he lightly kissed her neck.

“Mhm. Really sure. Cause…this is just as much about the pancakes as the sex…right?” Maka shivered when he kissed just behind her ear.

Soul leaned back to look at her, “Yeah. This isn’t..I don’t want a one night stand. I wasn’t kidding when I said I want to wake up next to you. And I want to wake up next to you for a long time, Maka.” He smirked and added as an afterthought, “Pancakes and everything.”

The way she smiled at him melted his heart a little (yes he’s a sap for this girl! He wants to make pancakes for her! How can he not be!?) and she stood up on her tip toes using her hands on his hips to keep her balance and kissed him. “Pancakes and everything sounds good.” Fuck yes it did.

He stumbled back the few steps to his bed, tripped on something he’d left on the floor, and fell backwards onto the mattress with Maka trapped to his chest. She squeaked as the fell and giggled helplessly at the way Soul groaned about “how uncool it was to fall into bed.”

“Mm, but now we’re in bed. So, mission accomplished.” She adjusted herself to straddle his hips and ran her hands up the planes of his chest. Soul groaned each time she scraped her fingernails back down again before continuing up. “I have wanted to do that for months.”

Well if they were gonna play that game, Soul brought his hands from where they were on her waist up to her tank top and finally cupped her breasts. Yup, everything he’d hoped for. Just a handful and that was really all he needed. Maka was even helpful enough to arch her back, pushing her breasts into Soul’s hands even more. She hurriedly worked the sweater off her arms, sat up more and started to grind against his dick.

While normally he didn’t mind her skinny jeans (hazard of art school, everyone had at least two pairs, yes even him) they were suddenly unbearable. There was way too much clothing still one both of them and for heaven’s sake he had socks on! “Pants?” Because he needed her pants off and his pants off (and his god damn socks!) and that all needed to happen like five minutes ago.

Maka looked down at him, the lights from the city splaying through window above his bed and playing across her face, highlighting her in blues, reds, and golds. A car went by, the light moving over his ceiling. She reached for the hem of her tank top and brought it over her head in one fluid move; she looked otherworldly against the darkness of the rest of his room, almost glowing as she leaned down to kiss him. He wished for a moment that he could paint, if only to be able to capture that image of her.

And while her shirt was not her pants, they were both at least topless and her skin was finally warm against his. Soul let his hands map out her back; the contours and dips, felt how her shoulder blades moved when she dipped lower to leave lingering kisses on his neck.  Her skin was soft, almost velvety to his rough hands. He grunted when she decided to start rocking her hips against his again, his hands dipping into her jeans to try and knead her ass and keep the pressure between them steady.

She hissed when he bucked up into her and retaliated by biting at his lips. “Pants, Soooul.”

“Oh god, you little brat. Now you want pants off!” He groaned and gave her ass one last squeeze before moving his hands to her waist. She giggled and shied away, slapping at his hands away. “Wait, are you ticklish?”

“No! Of course ahaha! Not! Stop that! Ahhha!” In a desperate attempt to avoid his fingers, Maka rolled off him and onto the mattress. Soul followed her, and took the opportunity to tug her pants down. She quickly undid the button and zipper and lifted her hips to help Soul pull her pants down her legs. “These too.” Maka hooked her thumbs in her black panties and started to pull them down as well.

Leaving her pants caught around her knees, Soul found himself helping her pull the panties down, down, down. Just plain black panties, but oh god, he could see just how wet and glistening they were. Fuck he couldn’t wait to taste her.

Also fuck his pants were kind of ridiculously tight. And god damn it! He still had his fucking socks on!

He’d deal with that as soon as Maka’s legs ended, cause wow did they go on forever. Finally her panties were against her pants and he tugged everything off. She sighed and wiggled, biting her lip and looking at him with those damn green eyes. “Yours too.”

“Workin’ on it. Kinda distracted.” Maka smiled up at him, her arms by her head, and her calves loosely resting around his hips from where he was sitting on his heels at the end of the bed. “God you’re hot, Maka.”

She shoved his shoulder with one foot and laughed outright when he fell over. Well, now would probably be the best time to take his socks off. He tugged them off and got himself out of his pants as fast as he could, no point in trying to be sexy about it. “You sleep with socks on?” Maka asked.

“Huh? No, I’d put them on when I thought I was gonna go to you. But someonedecided to run here all by herself.”

“Mmm, so glad I did. Get up here.” She reached for him and Soul liked how he could see her checking him out. Maka pulled him straight on top of her, kissing him and winding her legs around his hips. Even though she was under him she was grinding against him, hands raking down his back and holding him to her. With their clothing finally gone there was only the quiet rustle of the sheets and blankets and their low moans.

She tasted like tea, floral and earthy, Soul realized he’d been craving that taste since their little rendezvous in the studio. Actually he’d really just been craving all of her for a very long time. It was easy for him to follow the contours of her body until his hand was between her legs. Maka gasped and turned her head to the side, eyes screwed shut while he stroked her. God, she was wet and hot; he rubbed gentle circles over her clit and was rewarded by a choked moan.

Soul’s own breathing stopped as he sank one and then two fingers in her, fucking her slowly. Fuck, fuck dear god. The sounds she was making!? The way she felt? Yeah, this was gonna be awesome. She moaned his name (his name!) and finally looked at him, green eyes only half open and hazy with pleasure. Her breathing was uneven, coming in short pants sometimes, or long ragged sighs that he could feel.

When he wasn’t watching her bite her lip or dig her fingers  into the sheets, Soul was watching her hips move trying to push his fingers deeper, to feel more of him, to come undone on his hand. “Fu-fuck! Soul!” She licked her lips and trembled, pulling him down to kiss her as she came. Completely tense under him, shaking, and not even breathing. He kept stroking her, grinning against her lips as he drew her orgasm out for as long as she could stand it. “St-stop. Oh god.” She finally melted onto the mattress still quaking but smiling up at him. “Fuckin’ ceramicist fingers. Knew they were gonna be good.”

Soul really wasn’t sure how she managed to make him blush when literally all of his blood was in his dick, but fuck. He didn’t even have anything witty to say in return! So instead he gently pulled his fingers from her wet heat and licked them clean. Yup, he could work with that. He was a little startled when Maka moaned (dear lord was that a sound he could get used to though) and tugged him back down to kiss him again and taste herself on his tongue.

Her skin was unbearably hot on his and oh…oh this brought his dick right to where he wanted to be. Maka kissed from his mouth down to his neck, and yup, he was gonna gave a few hickies tomorrow. Worth it. Soul moved himself slowly, still just grinding and trying to gauge how sensitive Maka was. She bit his neck in retaliation. Well, okay he deserved that and it felt really good. Her legs hooked over his and oh god, if he just pulled his back and angled down, he’d be in her.

“Condom?” Soul asked against her neck.

“Pill.”

Well that solved that! Maka seemed to agree with him and wound her fingers into his hair and nodded. Supporting himself on his forearm, his hand cupping her face, Soul used his other hand to move his cock up and down her slit a few times (fuck she was so wet) before sinking into her slowly. Yup, well, fuck. If this wasn’t perfect, he didn’t know what was. And he hadn’t even come yet! Hell he hadn’t even started to move yet. Which Maka did not seem okay with, ‘cause she was kinda clawing at his back and groping his ass.

Okay, gotta keep the lady happy. Focus. Do not come. Pull out and oh dear god why was this so much more amazing with her than anyone else he had ever been with!? Just something about her moans, her skin, her eyes, her-

Soul lost his train of thought when she used her legs to push him back into her, taking his length with ease. They moved together deliberately, drawing out moans and their pleasure. Maka whispered things to him when he moved in her, words he didn’t understand but felt in his bones, felt in his soul. He was so close, too close; Soul rubbed at her clit, his rhythm faltering while he tried to stave off his own orgasm and bring her to the edge with him.

She sobbed his name, arms around his shoulders, chest flush to his and came again, and he was helpless and followed her. It took him a few minutes to come down, to register the rattling sound as his own breath, to feel Maka stroking his face and smoothing his hair away from his eyes, to realize that he was lying flat out on top of her and that it was probably hard for her to breathe. He groaned and managed to roll off of her, trying to blink away sleep, but Maka just followed him and pulled one of the many mismatched blankets over them both as she curled into his side. It was totally worth the effort to tuck his arm around her before he finally passed the fuck out.

He wasn’t sure what woke him up; maybe a car going by over that damn manhole cover that

clattered, or just ‘cause he wasn’t used to having someone else in his bed. But watching her sleep next to him, a warmer light from the early morning coloring her skin rose made him wonder if she understood just how serious “pancakes and everything” really was. Hell, Soul didn’t even know if he knew just how serious that “everything” was, but he was okay with that. They’d figure it out together. He kissed her forehead and let himself fall back asleep.

Somehow, his brain remembered that he needed to wake up and make pancakes. And that maybe doing that before Maka woke up would be awesome. And that yes, bringing them to her in bed (could he really call a mattress on the floor a bed?) would not be totally cheesy (yes it would, shut up). This was easier said than done though, because Maka and the bed were warm, but the rest of his little apartment? Not so much. But, pancakes. And everything. Soul grinned and found the willpower to get out of bed.

He did grab a pair of sweatpants from the floor and draped his Lumpy Space Princess fleece blanket (a gift from his brother, don’t ask) around his shoulder like a cape to help ward off the chill. He tried to make as little noise as he could considering that it was basically a one room studio apartment with what he was pretty sure had once been a closet converted into a bathroom. But hey, he had a shower that worked and could usually coax about fifteen minutes of hot water out of the damn thing. And a gas stove, that was actually awesome.

He made the batter, got the syrup (yup, gonna woo the cute girl asleep in his bed with real maple syrup, who says romance is dead?) out of the fridge and waited for the butter to melt in his little skillet. It was really only big enough for one pancake at a time, but they were a decent size and fun to flip. He couldn’t really feel his toes and kind of regretted not putting his socks back on from last night.

Two arms snaked around his waist and Soul nearly lost his shit. Maka giggled against his back and hugged him tighter. “Mornin’.”

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you?” He lay his arm over hers and flipped the pancake so that it wouldn’t burn.

“It was cold without you.” Oh fuck, what a cutie. Soul apologized again and turned around so he could actually hug her and envelop her in the LSP blanket. She was in his sweater (the one she’d stolen) and the socks he’d taken off in such a hurry last night, they were huge on her. “Mmm, like you.”

“Like you too.” A lot actually. A lot a lot. Maybe even in a love kind of way. Probably. Most definitely in a love kind of way.

“Good.” Soul couldn’t see her smile but he could hear it.

“Meant it, pancakes and everything.”

“Yeah? All the everything?”

“Yeah…for a long time…if that’s okay with you?”

“I’d like that, Soul.” She looked up at him and yeah, definitely in a love kind of way. He kissed her, cause otherwise he was going to have the stupidest and happiest smile on his face. Then the pancake started to burn. Maka laughed and swatted him while he frantically tried to turn on the pathetic stove fan and salvage the pancake.

She was impressed by the real syrup and forever swore off all fake shit from that moment on. He only burnt that one pancake, the rest were perfect (something he was very proud of), and they ate them while sitting cross legged on his bed (Maka called it an urban picnic, Soul called her ridiculous). Neither of them got any work done for any of their finals, but it was just what they needed. A day of lying around, making out, a nice round of afternoon sex, and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and a bottle of wine that Soul had forgotten was on top of his bureau. It was surprisingly good for how dusty it was.

She smiled at him before she left, wrapped up not only in the stolen sweater, but one of his jackets and scarves as well. He decided that he liked her in his clothing and it’d be a great excuse to see her whenever he wants.

In a few months they’d graduate and get an apartment together. In a year Soul would be hired as the new technician and ceramics professor at their alma mater and Maka would move up from her position as a receptionist at the local museum to an assistant administrator. In two years she’d be the head of a research team and Soul’s work would be shown overseas. In three years he proposes to her with a ring he designed and pancakes in bed, swearing that he was serious when he said pancakes and everything. In four years they move into a new apartment and Maka is being groomed to be the next head of the department at the museum. In five years they get married. In six years they are expecting their first baby.

 


End file.
